Black Roses: The Tragedy of Baron Rivendare
by LittleFireDragon
Summary: All villains have an origin, and the Four Horsemen are no exception. This is their story; who they were before the Scourge, and how they came to be the raid bosses we know them as. Pairings: RivendareXBlaumeux
1. Rose Buds

**Year, King's Calendar: 592**

Lady Rivendare watched her son as he sat alone in the rose garden, reading. "I'm worried about Titus," she said, at last, to her husband.

He didn't look up from his book, but adjusted his monocle and continued reading. "Why? He's growing into a proper gentleman. What's there to worry about?"

"Thomas, he's _six!_ He shouldn't be a 'gentleman' yet! He's still a child; he should be playing with the other youngsters!"

Titus Rivendare – the boy who would grow up to be the dreaded Baron Rivendare of the Scourge – glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment and then went back to his book, pretending not to hear his parents, brushing his nearly-shoulder-length platinum blond hair out of his deep blue eyes and tucking it behind his ear. Deep down, he knew his mother was right; he wasn't a normal boy: intelligent and refined for his tender young age, and already developing the arrogance of the aristocracy.

"Marian, if you're so worried about him, perhaps you should talk to him. _I_ think he's on the right path in life, but…" Thomas sounded slightly exasperated.

Titus again pretended not to hear. His parents argued like this from time to time. His father was proud of him, but his mother worried. He couldn't please both of them, so he'd long ago chosen to try to make his father happy. He heard his mother approaching, and tried to look deeply involved in his book. He was a _very _advanced reader for his age – another thing that troubled his mother. He didn't read "children's books". Granted, he wasn't devouring difficult adult books, either, but it was enough to set him apart from other children.

"Titus?" Marian asked, kneeling by her son.

He looked over at her. "Yes, mother?"

"Why don't you ever play with the other children?" she asked sadly, gently running her fingers through her son's hair.

"I don't want to play with the _common_ kids," Titus answered flatly. On the surface – both to the world and to himself – he tried to pretend he was proud of being different, of being a noble. Deep down, he knew it wasn't true. Deep down, he was lonely.

**Year: 593**

"_Marian, __**run!**__ Take Titus and run! I'll hold them off!_" Thomas shouted, brandishing his sword. The orcs roared. Lady Rivendare wept uncontrollably as she began to flee, leading her son by the wrist. He looked over his shoulder, confused and frightened.

"_Father!_"

"Titus, come!" his mother urged, forcing him along with her. He ran as fast as he could to keep up with her, fueled by his terror. A torch flew past them and an orc gave another battle shout. The torch slammed into a table and an inferno flared up almost immediately. The young noble started crying as he ran for his life from the strange, green-skinned monsters. He could hear his father struggling with them but Titus dared not look. He just ran and ran, with his mother leading him on. He could hardly see through the tears, and he could hear her crying too.

Only when they were far away did he look back over his shoulder. An orc's cry echoed from within the burning remains of the mansion that had been his home for seven years, and the image of the blazing manor seared itself in Titus Rivendare's mind forever.

**Year: 600**

Melanie Blaumeux eagerly awaited the return of her parents – and the arrival of her new baby brother – Aurius was the name her parents had decided on. The girl, just entering her teenage years, waited by the window, trying to see through the pouring rain, until she saw the glow of a lantern hanging from a carriage. The girl let out a small gasp and practically pressed her face against the glass. Yes, the carriage was coming to her home! Her mother and father and new brother! She rushed to the door. Thunder cracked loudly.

The door opened. Melanie's smile vanished in an instant. Her father, hood still over his eyes, stumbled in, no emotion in his face, cradling the baby in his arms.

"W-where's mother?" the firstborn Blaumeux whispered. Her father just shook his head sadly.

**Year: 601**

A man wearing a tabard bearing the symbol of a silver fist – a paladin of the relatively new Order of the Silver Hand – knelt by his young son, and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Zeliek."

The boy smiled at his father. He was only twelve, but he already knew he wanted nothing more than to be a paladin like his father. His heroic father, who fought the orcs and defended Azeroth from the enemies of the Holy Light. And now, he was going to be trained as a paladin. A small pang of sadness touched Zeliek's heart. "Dad? When will I see you again?"

The elder paladin was silent for a long time. "I don't know." He hesitated for a while, then said "You be a good boy – you always have been. Listen to the Thane and don't forget to keep your tabard clean." Zeliek's father patted the boy's head, then stood and tried to shake Korth'azz's hand – the dwarf paladin had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach the human's hand. Zeliek found it amusing that he would be trained by someone shorter than him – actually, the first person he'd ever met who was shorter than him – but he didn't protest. He had healthy respect for _all_ paladins, including Thane Korth'azz.

**Later That Year**

When the new girl showed up, Zeliek was the first to greet her. She was about two years older than him, wearing dark clothes and hiding her striking blue eyes behind raven-black curls of hair. She was very pretty, but Zeliek didn't notice this. He never noticed if girls were pretty.

"Hey!" Zeliek offered a hand to shake, accompanied by a big grin. Melanie just looked at his hand for a few moments, then gave a half-hearted shake. "What's wrong?" the younger boy asked.

Melanie pulled her cloak around her and walked away. "It's none of your business."

"Hey, hey, hey, wait up!" Zeliek ran after her. "I don't even know your name, yet!"

The girl stopped and brushed her hair away from her eyes for a moment, examining the boy. His enthusiasm and friendliness was certainly a mood-lifter. "Melanie Blaumeux."

"I'm Zeliek," the boy said, grinning. He had ever-so-slightly buck teeth but he was adorable anyway. "Pleasure to meet you."


	2. Lavender Roses

**Year: 602**

Titus didn't join the Silver Hand out of any paladinly ideals, no, he did it because he knew it was what his father would have wanted. Paladins were supposed to be the bringers of justice, and if he were a paladin, he could bring justice to the orcs – the monsters that had destroyed his home and killed his father. Justice, in the form of death.

"Hey, you new here?" a friendly voice called out. Rivendare turned to see who was talking to him. He snorted quietly when he saw it was some commoner boy, a scrawny thirteen-year-old with girlish eyelashes framing purple eyes.

"I can take care of myself."

"Oh, come on! Why is everyone like this? You're all gonna be paladins, and we've all gotta be like a family – that's what the Order of the Silver Hand_-"_

"I'm not going to talk to a commoner like you," Titus said.

Zeliek sighed and rolled his eyes. He knew the new guy would open up eventually. He wasn't keen to chase after people who didn't want to talk to him, anymore. It may have worked on Blaumeux, but he'd learned since then that it was kind of annoying, so he'd stopped. He went back to reading scripture.

Melanie herself was refining her swordsmanship skills, attacking a training dummy. Her elegant motions caught the eye of the newcomer. Now, this was a person he could talk to! Clearly she was also of noble blood, and about his age, too!

The bell at the top of the chapel tower rang then, signaling noon. Zeliek hopped off his fence and put a tasseled rope in his book. Blaumeux leaned her wooden sword against the dummy and turned to go into the building. "What are you gawking at?" she asked, glaring at Rivendare as she walked by him.

"Uh…" Titus didn't even reply. He shrugged the whole incident off and also went to get his lunch. Once he had it, however, he didn't know where to sit down and eat it. Zeliek and Melanie were sitting together, talking and laughing, and the other two young paladins were doing the same. Rivendare looked at the ground with a slight frown for a moment, then settled for sitting on a fence by himself.

XXX

Rivendare parried a blow and then lunged, knocking Zeliek's feet out from under him. The younger paladin landed flat on his back. He sat up, blinked a few times, then started laughing. Titus, much to his own surprise, grinned and also began to laugh. Rivendare helped the younger paladin to his feet. Zeliek had been correct – in the span of a couple weeks, Titus had warmed up to the others – except Blaumeux, who didn't want to have anything to do with him, or the others for that matter. She'd befriended Zeliek, but never talked to anyone else.

"How come she never talks to me?" he asked, without meaning to. Before Zeliek could ask who he meant, he pointed to the girl.

"Melanie?" Zeliek clarified, looking over at Blaumeux. He frowned slightly. "She doesn't talk to anyone, except me. I'm surprised she does, actually. She's always been a little… I don't know, antisocial. I asked her why, once, but she doesn't want to talk about it."

Later, as the young paladins were eating their lunch, Zeliek hopped up onto the fence next to Rivendare, to discuss what they'd been learning and which method they felt was superior so far. Melanie looked around in confusion, wondering where her friend was. She finally saw him, talking with Titus, and just watched them, frowning a bit. Zeliek waved at her and gestured for her to come over. Reluctantly, she did.

"Hi, Melanie," the boy in the white tunic greeted her.

"Hello, Zeliek," Blaumeux replied, trying to pretend she didn't see Rivendare.

"You guys haven't met before, have you?" Zeliek said, despite knowing the answer, and skipped straight to the introductions, "This is Titus. I know you don't like talking to new people, but I think you two could be great friends if you bothered to try."

"Doubt it," Melanie muttered under her breath. She spoke up, "Hello Titus. Melanie Blaumeux; pleasure to meet you." It was little more than dry formality.

"Uh… The pleasure is mine, good lady." Not a lot more was said between them.


	3. Yellow Roses

**Year: 603**

Zeliek's father knelt and hugged him. "Zeliek, I've been chosen to be part of the expedition into the orc homeworld, through the Dark Portal. This will probably be the last time you see me, but I promise I'll always be fighting to keep you and your mother safe, even from another world. Always remember, I'm proud of you, son. You're going to be one of the greatest paladins ever to live, I'm certain of it."

"I won't let you down, Dad…" Zeliek said, his voice breaking.

"I love you, son. Always."

"I love you too…" Then, Zeliek did something the others had never seen before – he started crying. He was disciplined enough to keep a straight face, but he couldn't hold back the tears. His father stood up, saluted the paladins, and then walked off to his destiny, looking regal and heroic.

Thane Korth'azz saluted him in return. "Yer father's a good man, Zeliek. Fought with him in the First War. A good man…"

"Hey, come on, Shrimp, don't cry…" Rivendare patted Zeliek's shoulder.

"At least you still have us," Blaumeux added, hugging her friend.

"Come on, lad, let's help ye try to forget," Korth'azz said, picking up a wooden lance and tossing it to Zeliek. "Today's lesson – mounted combat!"

A few hours later, the young paladin's mind was completely occupied with his training. His horse thundered toward the target, which he hit solidly. He, Blaumeux, and Rivendare – like their teacher – had a knack for fighting from horseback, a knack that would turn them into elite horsemen later on. Zeliek made a couple more rounds, smacking the training dummy dead-on each time. He dismounted, grinning. A group of girls – some of them local peasants, and a handful training as paladins – giggled amongst themselves. He waved at them innocently.

"Zel's turned out to be a natural charmer, apparently. Look at that! Girls flock to him like moths to a candle!" Titus observed, bemusedly. He and Blaumeux were leaning against the fence that surrounded the jousting ring.

"Yes, but he's totally oblivious!" she said, "He has some of the prettiest, sweetest girls in town fawning over him, but he doesn't notice any of them."

"What a waste of a gift, eh?" Titus said, his grin turning slightly troubled. He hesitated. Tapping the tips of his fingers together nervously, he asked, "Uh… Do _you_ like him?"

"Nope," Melanie replied, "He's cute, but he's not my type."

"_Oh._"

**Several Weeks Later**

Titus put his practice sword away, and then, out of the blue, the realization hit him: _Crap, it's Melanie's sixteenth birthday and I totally forgot!_

He had nothing to give her, so he went to the nearest town to see if he could find anything – he didn't think it would be a problem, as he had plenty of gold to spend. Try as he might, though, he couldn't find anything, expensive _or_ cheap, that he felt was right. In a last desperate measure, he tried a flower shop. He felt somewhat embarrassed to be there, especially when the shopkeeper greeted him.

"Hello there! Looking for a special gift for your lady-friend?"

"No, she's… just a friend," Titus responded, selecting a bouquet of yellow roses. _Yellow roses,_ he thought, _for friendship._ He'd learned the meanings of different colors of roses from his mother: red for love, white for purity and silence, purplish for enchantment, yellow for friends, blue for impossibility, and black for both death and –due to the rarity of black roses – the strongest, purest love of all.

XXX

"Melanie!" Titus said, "Happy birthday!" He felt incredibly awkward giving Blaumeux flowers, so he just held them out to her and looked away. It came as quite a surprise to him when, after taking the gift, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

"I love you, Titus!" she exclaimed. He froze. Even his heart stopped for a moment. "Platonically, I mean," she clarified, realizing what it had sounded like she meant. She stopped hugging him and stepped back, looking a bit embarrassed, maybe even guilty. He grinned, but it was a troubled grin.

"Heh, yeah. Give me a heart attack, why don't you. 'I love you, Titus,' honestly." He laughed.

She returned the grin. "Sorry."

"Nah, don't worry about it."

"I just... You and Zeliek are the first really close friends I've ever had."

"Yeah. Same to you."

**Year: 607**

Rivendare, Blaumeux, and Zeliek were out riding together, galloping through the woods for the fun of it. Titus slowed his horse down and Melanie stopped next to him. "Come on, Girly-Eyes," he called out, "hurry up! What, can't keep up with us?" Shrimp was no longer a valid nickname for Zeliek, since he'd had a growth spurt and had caught up to Rivendare in height, but Titus could still make fun of his long eyelashes.

Zeliek took a few minutes to catch up. "Come on, Titus, it's not a race!"

"Why do you think we're waiting for you?" Melanie replied, grinning. She'd grown into a lovely young woman, charming and fiery.

The youngest paladin rolled his eyes and grinned. He pointed to a town which had become visible to them only now, at the forest's edge. "Let's take a break. The horses are tired."

They rode into town and tied their horses up by a water trough, then went their own ways. It was there that Titus Rivendare met a figure who would influence the course of his life from that point on – Kel'Thuzad.

"Hail, paladin! Would you mind answering a few questions about the Light for me?" The request was strange, but seemed innocent enough. Kel'Thuzad was a powerful mage of the Kirin Tor, and it turned out that he was trying to extend the breadth of his knowledge – researching magics the mages usually didn't deal with: holy, nature, and – as he revealed late in the conversation – even shadow magic.

Titus knew he should have run, that he shouldn't get involved at any level with anyone dabbling in dark magic, but his curiosity got the best of him. He was fascinated by the dark arts, discussing them at great length with Kel'Thuzad. Deep down, something in his heart was afraid, twisting uncomfortably, telling him to run. Finally, he gave in, thanked Kel'Thuzad for the interesting conversation, and hurried away with the excuse that his friends were probably wondering where he was.

When he found Melanie and Zeliek, they greeted him warmly. Blaumeux asked "Anything interesting happen? What kept you?"

"No," Titus lied. His conscience was nagging at him, telling him to spill everything about Kel'Thuzad and dark magic. Ultimately, he decided not to – the mage only seemed interested in categorizing and classifying, not in practicing – or did he? Besides, the last thing Rivendare needed was a reputation as a paranoid tattletale. "I just lost track of the time looking around."

The decision would come back to haunt him.


	4. Red Roses

**Year: 614**

Storm clouds were gathering overhead as Titus knocked on Melanie's door. He'd heard she'd just lost her father, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be there to comfort her. That's what friends were for. It began to drizzle a bit.

Blaumeux opened the door. Her face was streaked with tears.

"Melanie?" Rivendare said, but as he moved to step into the house, Blaumeux gritted her teeth and slammed the door in his face. Titus was justifiably shocked. He just stood there, slightly slack-jawed and wide-eyed as the rain cloud opened up and poured its contents out on Lordaeron. Lightning flashed and, moments later, thunder rolled across the land.

XXX

"Titus, my boy, do come in! You're soaking wet!" Kel'Thuzad, temporarily staying in a rented home in Hearthglen, welcomed Rivendare into the building, and added more wood to the fire so the paladin could wait out the storm. Books of dark magic – particularly necromancy – were strewn across the table, chairs, and floor. Candles, skulls, and various shadowy objects lay scattered about. Had it been anyone but Titus who'd come knocking, Kel'Thuzad would have locked them out, but he'd peeked through the window first and, recognizing Rivendare, let him in. Titus was a friend, due to shared interest in dark magic.

The necromancer moved some books off the table and chairs, and prepared two cups of tea. Handing one to his guest, he sat down by the fire. "Now, what were you doing out in the storm?"

Titus drank some of the tea but had little desire to eat or drink. His pale hair was dripping, and he pushed some of the books that were on the floor away with his foot to avoid getting them wet. "Intended to go to Melanie's house…"

Kel'Thuzad raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly, silently inquiring as to who Melanie was.

"Blaumeux?" Titus prompted, "Have you heard of the Blaumeux family?"

"_Ah,_ the Blaumeuxs. Yes." The necromancer nodded, then asked about Melanie. "Lady-friend?" Automatically, Titus opened his mouth to give his standard 'No, just a friend', but faltered before he could say anything. He looked down at the tea, silent. "_Ahh…_" Kel'Thuzad said. He understood. "What happened?"

"Got a door slammed in my face," Rivendare sighed.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I meant to comfort her. Her father just died, and she lost her mother when she was just a kid… She's not handling it well, and… well, she took her grief out on me, I think."

"Lost her father, you say?" The necromancer raised his eyebrows. "Well, Titus, I happen to be working on a project you might be interested in."

"Oh, really." Titus feigned curiosity. Melanie was the only thing on his mind.

"I happen to be working on bringing back the dead," Kel'Thuzad said. _Now_ he had Rivendare's undivided attention. Titus went tense, staring intently at the necromancer.

"Go on…"

"I think it would be better if I were to show you…" The necromancer stood, and the paladin followed him.

XXX

Melanie opened the door with one hand, holding a bucket in the other, intending to go to the well. Something on the doorstep caught her eye, though – a drenched rose, red as blood. A pang of guilt shot through her heart as she picked it up. "_Oh, I'm so sorry…_" she whispered aloud, though nobody was there to hear her.

XXX

Kel'Thuzad opened the box and displayed its contents to Rivendare. Emotions flashed across the paladin's face – fascination, awe, disgust, disappointment, horror, sorrow. The box contained three rats – not living rats, but walking corpses. They stumbled confusedly around their prison.

"Kel," Titus said sadly, "This isn't bringing back the dead. This is corruption."

"It's a work in progress!" the necromancer snapped.

"I think you should abandon this."

"Why, when I'm so close! Titus, we can bring back Melanie's father! I'm _so close _to secrets so long denied us; knowledge and a whole new path of potential so long barred-"

"No, Kel'Thuzad. We can't bring back Mel's father. Not as one of these. You've gone _too far._"

"One has to break a few eggs to make an omelet."

Titus sighed. "Goodbye, Kel. I wish you luck in… whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. Thank you for the tea and shelter."

"You'll see, Titus…" Kel'Thuzad's voice was not aggressive, merely sorrowful. "You'll come to see what I have."

XXX

Blaumeux looked out the window idly – her timing was perfect. She caught sight of Rivendare as he was on his way home. She rushed to the door and called out to him. "_Titus!_"

He looked over at her, troubled. He then left the road and walked over to her. "Hello Melanie…"

"I'm sorry, about slamming the door in your face, earlier."

"It's alright. I understand. You're grieving. It's not your fault." He put a hand on her shoulder, but she stepped away, going back inside the house. He followed her, and they sat next to each other on the luxurious sofa in the main hall.

"I'm sorry about your father, Mel… I figured you needed someone to- … Are you… crying?" Sure enough, tears were flowing from Blaumeux's eyes. Rivendare wiped them away, but they just kept coming, so he gave up, instead putting a comforting arm around his friend. She buried her face in the shoulder of his rich purple tunic, sobbing. "I know how you feel."

They remained there for a long time, Melanie crying her heart out into Titus' shoulder, until finally she had no more tears to shed. He gently ran his fingers through her wavy black hair, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"_Don't leave me…_" she whispered.

"I'll stay until you no longer want me to. I'm always here for you when you need me. Remember that."

"Thank you, Titus… I love you…"

He didn't even think to ask her if she meant it platonically this time.


	5. White Roses

**Year: 616**

"So there we were," Korth'azz said, setting his mug on the table and gesturing to add dramatic emphasis to his war story. He looked at Zeliek. "Yer father and I, jus' the two of us, between a cliff and seven orcs! I jus' look at him, an' he nods, gives this great shout, and rushes in, brandishing 'is sword! I follow him, an' before I know it we're back to back, with three orcs alrea'y bleedin' at our feet, the other four surroundin' us!"

"Excuse me," a new voice interrupted. Thane Korth'azz paused. It was a messenger. "I bring word for Baron Titus Rivendare."

"Yes, that's me," Titus said.

"Your mother is gravely ill. She called for you to see her at once."

Baron Rivendare went white as a sheet. He stood up without a word and hurried off. Melanie, Zeliek, and Korth'azz exchanged worried looks.

XXX

Titus knelt by the new gravestone. Biting his lip, he ran a hand over the name: LADY MARIAN RIVENDARE. A tear escaped his eye as he placed a bundle of white roses on his mother's grave.

"Titus…?" Blaumeux's voice broke the quiet of the cemetery. He didn't turn to look at her. She walked slowly over and knelt next to him, adding her own flowers to the bundle. Melanie put her arms around her friend, who leaned his head against her shoulder and began to sob silently. Blaumeux's own lip began to quiver. With a broken voice, she said, "I'm here for you when you need me, Titus…"

**January, 617**

"Could the grain itself be plagued?" Arthas asked, looking at the strangely dead ground around the granary.

"Let's hope not," Jaina answered, shuddering, "Those crates bear the regional seal of Andorhal, the distribution center for the northern boroughs. If this grain can spread the plague, there's no telling how many villages might be infected…"

XXX

Arthas, Jaina, and their forces halted their rampage through the blighted town, the skeletons lying still at their feet. Arthas locked eyes with the skull-hooded man who had been conjuring something dark with other spellcasters – Kel'Thuzad.

"We've been discovered! Flee and continue the operation!" Kel ordered the other necromancers, who immediately obeyed, running for their lives. He cast several dark spells on the corpses strewn about. They rose as skeletons. "Sorry I can't stay and chat, but duty calls…"

XXX

"_Hold the line!_" Melanie shouted. She and her band of paladins were determined to get to the bottom of the plague, skeletons be damned! Blaumeux's followers were faltering. The skeletons were too powerful for such a small group, but the paladins refused to back down. Wings of light appeared on Melanie's back as she rushed into combat, her war hammer glowing golden. She cracked several undead skulls with powerful blows.

"M'lady, we're surrounded!" a paladin called out.

At Melanie's command, they formed a ring, arm to arm; a circle of Light the undead would have to pierce. Unfortunately, there were enough skeletons to do just that – a man shouted as he fell. Skeletons poured into the circle and began slaughtering the paladins from behind. Blaumeux was the last one standing. She desperately fought back but the undead overwhelmed her.

XXX

Titus continued his ride, despite the gathering storm. "_Melanie!_" he repeatedly called her name but received no answer. When he'd heard that she and her allies were investigating the plague, he'd immediately set out to find her. He searched and searched, though it began to rain.

He saw her. The raven curls cascading down her neck, the slender form – yes, he recognized the corpse. He felt sick to his stomach. His face went pale. Rivendare dismounted and ran to the fallen paladin. She was lying face down, and from his new angle, Titus could see that there was blood pooling below her.

Titus knelt by Melanie's body, and turned her over onto her back, revealing the wound that had killed her – a nasty slash to the gut. Her death had been excruciating. Rivendare cradled the body, staring in disbelief at Blaumeux's lifeless form. She was cold – she must have been dead for over half an hour. Her thick black hair clumped together, soaked by the rain that poured down on them. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed. Rivendare's tears were indistinguishable from the rain that diluted the fallen paladin's blood.

Titus clutched Melanie's corpse to his chest and threw back his head with a wordless cry of anguish and grief.

XXX

Baron Rivendare knocked on the door of the Blaumeux house – now home to only a single occupant. Lady Blaumeux's younger brother answered the door – a blond sixteen-year old paladin in training. The boy welcomed Titus into the house. "Aurius," Rivendare said, his voice hoarse from crying. He did not once look up from the ground. "Your sister is dead."

Many expressions crossed the boy's face – notably, grief and fear. Not only had he lost his older sister – he'd lost his last adult family member, his caretaker. Korth'azz was a good teacher, but there was no way the dwarf would be able to actually take him in as a family member. Aurius started crying pitifully. Rivendare bit his lip and tried not to join the boy, but couldn't hold back all the tears – a few escaped.

"What am I going to do…?" Aurius asked through his tears, "Where am I going to go?" It was the last thing Baron Rivendare needed – his heart was already torn to pieces by the loss of Melanie, and seeing a boy barely out of his childhood crying in grief and terror for his own future pierced what was left of it.

"Melanie and I were… very close friends…" Titus said, the words coming on their own, "I'll… I'll take you in."

Aurius barely managed to speak through his crying fit. "T-thank you M-mister Rivendare…"

"You can… call me Titus…"

Aurius Rivendare. It was a noble enough name. Some day it would have great meaning. For now, it was a tragic name.


	6. Withered Roses

**March of 617**

Sir Zeliek knocked on the door of the Rivendare mansion. He'd just received bad news and needed to talk to someone about it.

"Who's there?" a voice called from inside.

"Zeliek. Open the door, Titus; it's cold out here…"

Footsteps. The door opened. As they went into the lounge, Zeliek immediately noticed something wasn't right about Rivendare. It only took him a few moments to figure it out.

"By the Light, Titus! You're drunk as a dog!" the paladin exclaimed.

"Nonsense," Rivendare replied, his voice slightly slurred, "I've just had a… a couple glasses of wine…" He sank back into the expensive sofa and picked up the wine glass he'd left on the table. There were three bottles of red wine on the table – two empty, one halfway there. Clearly he'd been drinking for quite some time. He gestured at a chair nearby, inviting the paladin to sit. "So, what… what brings you here?"

Zeliek hesitated. He was concerned about his friend, but decided to just answer the question. "Uther… told me that Prince Arthas ordered Stratholme to be… purged. They killed all of them, every last innocent citizen, even the children." The paladin was well aware that he looked sick. Now, though, seeing his friend hopelessly drunk, he didn't care to discuss his own worries over the events of Stratholme. It was unimportant at the moment.

Rivendare uncorked the half-full bottle of wine. "Want a glass? It'll dull the pain…"

"Is that what you've been doing…" Zeliek muttered. It wasn't a question; he knew the answer. He spoke up. "No, thank you, Titus. I don't drink."

"No taste for wine?" Titus grinned slightly. It was a twisted smile, tainted by sorrow temporarily pushed into the subconscious by drowning it. Sorrow lurking just under the surface. For now, Rivendare had managed to more or less forget.

"No taste for alcohol…" Sir Zeliek replied, deep in thought, "Titus, I really think you've had enough to drink…"

"Teetotaler," Rivendare muttered. He poured more wine into the glass. Some of it splashed up over the side. "Damn it."

"You're not usually like this. I've never known you to drink like this."

"Still focusing on the wine… You sure you don't want some?"

"Titus. Really, stop. You've had enough. This is about Melanie, isn't it?"

Baron Rivendare froze, then his shoulders slumped and he put the wine glass down on the table. He sighed. "Yes…"

Zeliek took the bottle and glass of wine and hid them in the kitchen so Titus wouldn't be able to find them until he was sober. He returned with a glass of cold water. "Drink this. It'll help." The paladin cast a cleansing spell on his friend. About fifteen minutes later, between the magic and the water, Rivendare was more-or-less clear-headed.

He put a hand over his eyes and forehead. He looked guilty. "First time I've been mostly sober in… a month and a half…"

"Since Mel died…" Zeliek said. Titus nodded. The younger paladin changed the topic. "Where is Aurius? I heard you adopted him."

"He's off training with Korth'azz. I don't drink in front of him… Usually…" Despite Zeliek's attempts at avoiding a painful conversation, Rivendare brought the subject back up: "I haven't… been the same since Melanie was killed… I- … Zeliek, I can't handle it!"

"I know. Trust me, I know. I miss her too. She was my best friend too… You too, of course. If I lost both of you…"

Titus was silent. Realization suddenly dawned on him, and he put his hands over his face. "Where did you hide the wine?"

"I'm not going to tell you. You'll just get drunk again."

"Precisely…" There was a long pause. "Zeliek, it's all my fault!" Rivendare lamented.

"Oh, come now, Titus. It's not your fault. It had nothing to do with you. I know it's normal to blame yourself for the death of a friend, but-"

"No, you don't understand, it _is_ my fault! I could have prevented this, I _knew then_ that I should have, but I didn't! The undead killed her – the undead created by the Plague!"

"You're right, I don't understand. What does this have to do with you?" the younger paladin asked, slightly confused but mostly sorrowful. He pitied his friend; clearly Rivendare couldn't handle Blaumeux's death anywhere near as well as Zeliek. "Why are you blaming yourself…?"

"Because," Titus said, the words being dragged from deep inside him, out from under years of memories, "I could have prevented the Plague from ever touching Lordaeron, but _I didn't._ Ten years ago, I met a wizard named Kel'Thuzad. I found out that he was playing with dark magic, but I didn't see the harm in it – he wasn't dabbling in… _performing _necromancy at the time. I… _I trusted him._ I didn't rat him out like I should have – like any good paladin would have!"

Zeliek's expression had changed entirely. He understood what Titus was getting at, and the horror washed over him. He stared in disbelief at his friend, face white as a sheet. He mouthed the words "_By the Light…_" but his voice failed him.

"Then, three years ago, he revealed to me that he was working on raising the undead. He even showed me a box of undead rats he was performing his twisted experiments on, but I still didn't tell anyone! I just… _let it go!_" Now Rivendare sounded like even he couldn't believe what he had done – as though someone else were telling the story. He felt more like he imagined Zeliek did: horrified, yet not fully grasping or believing it, like it was _someone else's_ story. And yet he knew he was telling his _own_ tale. "If I'd just _said_ something, the Plague might never have happened a-and Melanie would still be here! _It's my fault!_" Baron Rivendare broke down at that point and managed a few more lines, though they came out as gibberish through the sobbing, before he simply gave up on speaking and just cried.

Zeliek felt betrayed, but somehow he couldn't be mad at Rivendare. At a logical level, he couldn't fathom it. He simply could not grasp how someone could be fully _aware_ that another person was doing evil things, and yet be so apathetic as to not mention it once over a span of ten years. Yet, somehow, he _understood_, on a deep level, deeper than logic.

**July of 617**

"Ahh, my son…" King Terenas said, greeting the returning Prince. Arthas knelt with Frostmourne.

"You… no longer need to sacrifice for your people. You no longer need to bear the weight… of your crown… I've taken care… of _everything._" Suddenly the Prince rose to his feet and rushed at his father.

"What is this? What are you _doing_, my son?"

Arthas smirked. "_Succeeding you, __father_."

The crown fell, broke, and rolled to a halt, forever marking the throne room with the blood of the last true King of Lordaeron.

XXX

Titus walked toward where he'd heard Arthas was, his single goal burning in his mind. He'd heard rumors of a terrifying female death knight – all he'd needed to hear. Zeliek had tried to talk him out of it at the last minute but Rivendare was, for all intents and purposes, wearing blinders. Ahead, he saw the Prince – no, the _King! _He was preparing to leave Lordaeron and return to Northrend.

"My liege!" he called out. Arthas drew Frostmourne. Rivendare spread his arms as though to invite the sword into his heart. "I am yours to command… I pledge myself to whatever cause you and your undead uphold. Make me one of yours, and I will serve you forever!"

It was a request for undeath.

**September of 617**

Arthas rampaged through the town on his undead steed, many ghouls in tow. The knights and other defenders fell quickly before their might. Korth'azz sat atop his mighty warhorse, ready to lay down his life to defend Lordaeron from its own King.

"Arthas, what has become of ye, lad…"

"I've seen past my weaknesses, Thane… Unlike you. You're still bound to the Light. To weakness…"

The dwarf's horse pawed the ground. It was their last stand – Korth'azz's last battle as a paladin. He was just as fiery as ever, even staring his own death in the eye. "We'll see 'bout that, ya backstabbin', schemin', pansy of a traitor! I won' go down wi'out a fight!"

XXX

Zeliek was the only paladin remaining between Arthas and Uther, and he intended to give his life protecting his superior. His noble steed snorted at the undead. He sat tall in the saddle, his white armor gleaming, the winged headband – which he would continue to wear even in undeath – accenting every graceful and noble motion of his head.

"You'll never touch Uther while I still live, monster." Zeliek's piercing purple eyes stared straight into Arthas', issuing a challenge.

"Then," Arthas said, "I guess I'll have to take care of that little obstacle. No matter…"

Zeliek put up a valiant fight – only Uther's faith was stronger, and only Uther would prove a more competent and powerful paladin. In the end, though, the heroic man fell from his horse, but not before taking down several dozen undead. It was this strength in the Light that would secure his place in Naxxramas.

Arthas continued on, taking mental note of the fallen paladin's location – he would come back for this one. Finally, he reached his target.

"Your father ruled this land for fifty years, and you've ground it to dust in a matter of months," the Lightbringer growled.

"Very dramatic, Uther. Give me the urn and I'll make sure you die quickly."

"_The urn holds your father's ashes, Arthas! What, were you hoping to piss on them one last time before you left his kingdom to rot?_" Uther practically exploded with rage.

Arthas laughed. "I didn't know what it held! Nor does it matter. I'll take what I came for, one way or another."

With that, he charged into the long struggle that would precede Uther's demise.


	7. Blue Roses

**Year: 622**

Baron Rivendare, overlord of Stratholme, sat at his desk in the back of his miniature fortress in his ruined city. He had a rough map of the plaguelands spread out before him, with marks indicating Argent Dawn strongholds and Scourge bases. Around each one he'd scribbled numbers, notes, anything he felt was important. Lines – dashed, solid, dotted – crisscrossed the entire sheet of parchment, all cryptic, nonsensical, meaningless to everyone but the Baron.

His blue eyes darted around the map, analyzing the marks he'd made. His hair was now even paler than it had been in life – whereas it had once been _nearly_ white, it now actually _was_. Rivendare's face, though still vaguely handsome, was pale, slightly gaunt, and deathly cold.

A banshee floated in. Catching a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, Titus acknowledged her presence. "Anastari."

"Your Lordship," she said. Though she technically held the same rank as he did – she was a Baroness – he was higher in the Scourge hierarchy, so she addressed him as a superior. Rivendare put the quill down and turned to look at the banshee. "I bring news from the Great Lich…" She offered a sealed envelope to Titus, who took it and wordlessly opened it. Anastari had never seen Rivendare look surprised or excited, but he certainly was now; she could tell just by looking at his eyes, wide with disbelief, despite the rest of his face being obscured by the thick blue scarf.

"Naxxramas? Coming here?" Titus struggled not to let his enthusiasm show. He didn't want to seem too excited. "Kel'Thuzad's personal necropolis? I am not mixing this up with another necropolis, am I?"

"You are not, my Lord," the banshee assured him.

Titus sank back into his chair, blinking in shock. He gestured at Anastari to leave. "Thank you. Dismissed…"

_Naxxramas, _coming_ right to his doorstep. _After _five tormenting years,_ Naxxramas was _finally_ coming. Five long years since he'd last seen Blaumeux, since he'd last heard her voice. It had _crushed_ him to be stationed in Stratholme while Melanie left for Northrend – before he'd even _once_ gotten to see her – but he hadn't let it show. He'd thrown himself into his work. Into the killing, the plotting, the ruling. Now, Kel'Thuzad and his necropolis were finally going to join him in Lordaeron. _Lady Blaumeux_ was finally going to join him in Lordaeron.

**September of 623**

Blaumeux returned to the Horsemen's Lair, her cloak damp and slightly stained. It was clean enough for her tastes. "Why," she asked, "is children's blood _so much harder_ to wash out than adult's blood?" It really wasn't, she just said things like that to irritate Zeliek.

Sir Zeliek gave her a death-glare. He'd grown to hate her. He hated everything about her – her voice, her actions, the things she said, even the glint in her bright blue eyes; he hated it all. "Consider yourself lucky Kel'Thuzad would stop me from attacking you, or I'd kill you right here, right now."

The female death knight took off her helmet, walked over to Zeliek, and put a hand on his face and stroked his chin gently, stopping when she had just a single finger remaining on his face and lifting his chin so he would look her directly in the eye. He was powerless to resist her seductive motion, but for an entirely different reason than most men – he was completely immune to her evil charms, but Kel'Thuzad had him on an incredibly tight leash, restricting his movements to the point where he could control almost nothing of his own behavior. The death knight in white armor gritted his teeth so hard he felt they might break in half.

"Oh Zeliek," she said softly, "You know you'd never harm your _dear friend_ Melanie…" Her eyes glinted as she spoke.

If he could smack her hand away from his face, he would have. Instead he just glared at her. "You're not Melanie anymore. You're just the monster the Scourge have put in Melanie's body."

"Did you hear that, Korth'azz?" Blaumeux asked, pretending to be hurt by his words.

"Hear what? Zeliek? I try to ignore 'im," the dwarf replied.

" He says I'm a monster!" Melanie whined. She laughed coldly, dropping the false pain, and turned back to the fallen paladin. "Bold words, Zel." She patted him dismissively on the head, like a child or a dog, and walked away. Oh, how he hated her.

Alexandros rode into the room atop his undead steed. "Kel'Thuzad says we're moving back to Northrend in four months. Plenty of time to prepare…"

**Three Months Later**

Rivendare stood outside the Slaughterhouse, hands behind his back, just looking skyward. It wasn't like him to spend so long away from his work. The other Scourge lurking in Stratholme noticed the odd behavior but none of them dared to confront their Baron about it.

Finally, Anastari floated silently over. "My Lord…?"

"…Yes?"

"You've been here for hours," she said, both gently and fearfully. Baron Rivendare did not reply, nor did he look at her. The banshee turned to see what he was staring at, frowning slightly. She saw nothing unusual in the sky. Just smoke, clouds, and the distant silhouette of a necropolis – just as it had been for almost two years. "What are you looking at?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Naxxramas," the Baron replied. His tone was not as sharp as usual; in fact it seemed almost like a resigned sigh. He didn't _look_ depressed, worried, or in any way troubled, but neither did he look stern, almost angry, as he usually did. He simply looked calm.

There was a long silence. Anastari also looked up at Naxxramas, deep in thought. For several minutes, the death knight and banshee simply stood there in Stratholme, looking up at the floating citadel. The Baroness finally broke the silence. "It will be leaving soon."

"I know…" Rivendare didn't let his sorrow show. For so long, he'd been _so tantalizingly close_, yet, Naxxramas – and its denizens – remained _just_ out of reach, just barely within sight. Soon, it would be gone again, having finished taunting him. Yet again, his hopes and dreams would be crushed.

The banshee opened her mouth to speak again, but was cut off by a loud crash! Rivendare was tense, alert, and the stern expression returned to his face. "_The living are here!_" a voice called out.

"Get to your ziggurat," Rivendare ordered. He turned without another word and briskly walked back to his building. Throughout Stratholme, Argent Dawn forces were splitting up, spreading, falling here and there. A small group of them made its way toward Slaughter Square. The abominations Rivendare had guarding his miniature fortress fell, one by one, but not without a considerable fight.

Still, Aurius pressed on. He and three other paladins had managed to reach the Slaughterhouse through sheer brute force. One of the two women fell to the skeletal bodyguards, but the remaining woman and the two men managed to reach Rivendare himself.

The death knight did not conceal the mild surprise he felt. "_Aurius?_" His adopted son. Melanie's brother. Aurius Rivendare. _Aurius Blaumeux._ Rage boiled up in Titus' heart. Why had he lived, when his sister had died? He should have fallen, not her! If he'd been out hunting the undead instead of his elder sister…. _It was all __**his **__fault!_

Baron Rivendare gritted his teeth and let out a furious battle shout. He snapped the reins and his skeletal steed thundered toward the Argents, backed by the full force of a broken heart and a mind losing the last vestiges of sanity. The paladins didn't stand a chance.


	8. Black Roses

**Year: 624**

Rivendare stared blankly into space as he rode silently to the Scarlet Enclave, not saying a word to the four death knight escorts who accompanied him to his new station at Acherus. He was trying to distance himself from his own pain. Finally, he'd been reassigned to a necropolis – the goal he'd had in mind for seven years. And now, it was _the wrong necropolis._ There were only two major necropoli, where an important death knight such as himself would go, only _two_ in all of Azeroth, and he'd somehow had the rotten luck to be assigned _the wrong one._ All his work, for nothing. Everything he'd done to try to convince Kel'Thuzad and the Lich King that he belonged in a higher position than a lowly fortress in Stratholme, everything he'd done to persuade them to reassign him, had worked; yet it had failed, for now he had no backup plan – no way to convince them to move him to Naxxramas. Even in undeath, the world was out to break his heart, again and again.

At least he'd be facing off with Scarlet Crusaders instead of brooding in the back room of the Slaughterhouse. Fighting would take his mind off of Melanie, hopefully. It would at least keep him occupied until Naxxramas left – scheduled to occur a week later. From time to time, Titus remembered this, and deep down, he wanted to cry, but there were no tears left in him. The Scourge had long since beaten that out of him – rather, Arthas had. The Lich King himself was the only one who knew of the inner pain that drove Baron Rivendare's fury.

In all honesty, Titus wasn't sure whether Arthas was being kind or cruel to him: on one hand, he knew full well of his deepest desire to just be near Melanie, and yet did not move him to Naxxramas – or, _was _he aware? Perhaps he didn't care and had forgotten. On the other hand, sometimes the Lich King's whispers would respond to thoughts of Blaumeux by being as distracting as possible, forcing the death knight back onto a more relevant train of thought – perhaps this wasn't even intentional. He hadn't done that in a long time, though, and by now Rivendare had taught himself to try to focus on other things if he caught himself thinking of Naxxramas or of Melanie.

XXX

"You're quiet, Titus," Darion said. Rivendare shrugged. "Still warming up to Acherus?" A hesitation, then another shrug. Mograine was getting irritated. It was a particularly dull moment in the necropolis, and his new guest was not talking to him. "What, you won't talk to me, just because I'm not your beloved banshee Anasta-"

"_I do not love Anastari_." Titus' tone was sharp as a knife, his stare just as piercing. "Never suggest otherwise again."

Bemused, Darion muttered, "I didn't mean 'beloved' in that sense…" The word _love_ never even occurred to Mograine that way. It had taken exclusively the meaning it would have in the statement that one _loved_ to slaughter. Why Rivendare would interpret it any other way was beyond him.

Titus just remained quiet for a moment. "My apologies for my outburst… Highlord." He forced himself to add the title. He was jealous of Darion, who would be going to Naxxramas soon, to replace his recently deceased father.

They dropped the subject as an unmounted death knight came to them, a young female night elf. "The war has begun, Highlord."

"Excellent," Darion said, "The Scarlets don't stand a chance. Speak to Thalanor – he'll put you on a gryphon and send you off to Prince Valanar. Suffer well, sister." He turned to Rivendare. "You'd best be off to the crypt, Titus. They'll need your leadership."

XXX

Titus wiped the blood from his brow as he entered the crypt, where he'd help coordinate and direct the assault. A small, sadistic grin was hidden under the blue scarf – in killing, he'd forgotten. For now.

"Welcome, your Lordship," the vampiric elf said.

"Greetings, Keleseth."

They set to work, plotting the downfall of the Crusade. It was not long before death knights began to show up, looking for new orders. A tauren man mentioned how he would never understand the Scarlet thought process.

"My theory is that they lack higher brain function," Titus said, "unable to logically assess a situation and calculate an outcome." He shook his head. "I must admit I enjoy our exchanges with them. Some of the most tragic moments in human history have come of our battles against the Crusade, and yet, here we are, _**again,**_ locked in combat with them. They have a death wish – I'd slay them myself, but I'm a bit busy. It would be so rude of us to deny them a chance to serve the Lich King… Fulfill their death wish for me, won't you?"

XXX

The forces were gathering outside Light's Hope chapel. Rivendare looked into the scrying orb, watching the death knights already gathered – the youngest of which almost had to be literally held back by Darion to keep them from charging in prematurely. The sky was orange with smoke and fire. Titus finished his preparations and was about to head out to the battlefield, when a messenger caught him.

"Baron Rivendare! There's been a change of plans. Darion will be staying here. You are to report to Naxxramas at once."

If Titus' heart had still been beating, it would have stopped then. Could it be? At long last? "Naxxramas? Right away."

As he mounted a skeletal gryphon to head out to Naxxramas – his horse would be summoned in later – he heard a voice in the distance: "_Soldiers of the Scourge, death knights of Acherus, minions of the darkness: hear the call of the Highlord!_"

XXX

Titus arrived in Naxxramas. The horrors he saw meant nothing; he ignored all of them entirely. He tried to hold back his excitement, hide it from view. He stopped to check in with Kel'Thuzad, keeping the meeting short – he wasn't there to talk to the lich. Every moment was excruciating; he was _so close!_ As soon as he was dismissed, he made a beeline for the Horsemen's assembly, where three death knights awaited his arrival. One, the female, walked toward him.

She was wearing a helmet, but her slender, elegant form identified her. Rivendare knew at once who she was but a part of him couldn't quite believe it. She stopped right in front of him. "Titus. It's been a long time." Oh, that voice! Twisted by undeath but still music to his ears!

With a trembling hand, he reached out and lightly, gently touched her shoulder, as though afraid that she would vanish as soon as he touched her, but he needed to verify that she was actually there. Then, he carefully removed the helmet, and it all became real for him. The helm clattered to the floor. Titus smiled; Blaumeux's face, while gaunt and pale, with her eyes glowing unnaturally, was still beautiful, at least to him.

He put his arms around her and hugged her tenderly. "Oh, Melanie, you have no idea how sweet it is to see your face again; to hear your voice! How long I've waited!" Blaumeux didn't react initially. She was slightly confused; displays of affection were uncommon for the Scourge, and when they did occur, they were just a pat on the back, or rarely a brisk, rough hug. Nothing like this. Yet, it brought back memories. A faint smile twitched at the edge of her lips.

Rivendare stopped hugging her and looked at the other two horsemen. "Zel, Kor! It's been years."

"Welcome to Naxxramas, lad," the dwarf greeted him. Zeliek gritted his teeth and looked the other way, refusing to speak to Titus.

Under the scarf, Rivendare was wearing the broadest grin he'd displayed since before his death. "The four of us are back together, again. Just as it should be."

"I beg to differ," Zeliek muttered, "You are not the people I knew as a child."

"Shut up 'fore I shove me boot down yer throat," Kor'thazz threatened.

Titus just laughed. It was not the ending Thomas and Marian would have wanted for their son, nor was it the ending he would have dreamed of. Baron Titus Rivendare had been twisted into an evil fiend, stationed in a hellish necropolis.

But he was with his friends and the girl of his dreams, and that was all that mattered to him. For once, he felt truly _at home._

THE END.


End file.
